


A Reason to Weep

by LadyMerlin



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Neglect, Depression, F/M, Growing Up, Happy-ish Endings, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Jim made his mother cry, and the One Time he didn't. </p><p>Originally published on 25 July 2009, on FFNet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reason to Weep

**Author's Note:**

> Named thus because of something my dad once told me. This was originally named "Crying for One Reason or Another".

** One **

The first time Jim’s mother cried was when he was born. There was something about the delicacy of that tiny hand, holding hers with such love, and those big blue eyes that reminded her so much of Georges’.

He did absolutely nothing to hurt her. He was absolutely adorable, and he was a healthy baby, unlike his brother before him. He was well behaved, didn’t throw many temper tantrums, and woke up with a smile and a happy coo. But she couldn’t help but cry when she saw him. It was beyond her control. Those eyes…

It was a shame that whenever Jim’s mother looked upon him there were nothing but tears in her eyes. It was the Universes’ ironic way of telling her about the events in her future, and a horrible way of depriving Jim of the only love he was destined to receive for a long time.

** Two **

The second time Jim made his mother cry was when he was eleven; a thoroughly terrifying period in their lives. Jim had discovered the merits of his blue eyes, blonde hair and truly charming grin. He was learning how to use them on complete strangers and he was learning fast. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t been manipulating his mother since he was three, but that’s a different story.

He had gone for a sleep-over at a friend’s house, and come back the next morning, smelling of rum. She had expected that he would be sleeping in a tent in the yard and having only s’mores for dinner. So much for _that._

She had taken one look at him; his slightly unfocused gaze and his fumbling un-grace, and had burst into tears.

The sight of unabashed sorrow on his mothers face worked better than any hang-over remedy ever did, snapping him out of it thoroughly. He begged for forgiveness over and over, and she cried and cried and cried.

He never understood that it had never been about forgiveness. It would never be about forgiveness. It was the broken-ness of something inside of her, which destroyed her so completely. She knew other kids did it, and she knew that there were many ways to prevent lasting damage from alcohol consumption. She knew it was almost a norm, but it was still upsetting, to say the least.

It had truly been one of the worst days in Jim’s life. Ever.

Later that night he had crawled into her bed at one am. He put his warm and slightly sticky arm around her and promised he’d never do anything like that, ever again.

He didn’t. Not that she knew of, anyway. Not for a long time, he promised himself. Preferably never. Famous last words.

** Three **

The third time he made his mother cry was when he’d been caught ‘loitering’ in private property. The officer told her that it wasn’t just loitering; he was being nice to the great George Kirk’s son. Jim had been found lighting a small fire on private property.

She opened the door to see an officer holding his son firmly by the shoulder, looking grim. Jim looked abashed. She burst out crying, yelling at Jim and apologizing to the officer at intervals.

The house had been unbearably quiet and at the end of it she’d quietly told him that she was utterly disappointed in him, that she’d never expected this from him. She told him that he was to make something out of himself, because he was worth it, and because his father had given his life up, so that Jim may have this chance.

She had confessed that she had expected it, and that she had feared it, and that she had nightmares that the stupid things Jim did would send him to a place worse than jail.

Unknown to her, Jim had cried that night. He cried because he had truly felt alive, and his joy had hurt his mother. He didn’t know what to do. It would be a dilemma which he faced almost every day in his life; thus were the consequences of being so alive, consequences of being one such as Jim Kirk.

** Four **

The fourth time he made his mother cry was when he was sixteen. He’d fallen in love. Her name was Anna, and she was the prettiest thing Hick-town, Iowa (as Jim referred to it) had ever seen.

More than this, what attracted Jim to her was the fact that she carried the hint of big cities, and worlds far away. She would lie awake with him and tell him about Vulcan and Tarsus and worlds which he knew his mother would never let him see.

She smelled of adventure.

They’d made love for the first time in a barn, on prom night. It was cliché, but it was the most romantic thing either of them had ever done.

He got home, and call it mother’s intuition, she knew. She _just_ knew. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it, but she knew, and silent tears flowed down her cheeks.

Years later she told him that she could tell from the way he walked. And the way he talked about Anna. As if she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

It was a good start, she had supposed. Better than many. At least they thought they were in love. At least it wasn’t _just_ sex. But she’d cried because he was growing up. She’d cried because she knew things would never be the same again. She wasn’t disappointed in him, but she was sad all the same.

Unbeknown to her, Anna broke up with him three weeks later, claiming that it had been ‘just sex’.

Thus began the long line of anonymous women in Jim’s life.

** Five **

The fifth time he made her cry, he knew she was going to cry. He went in there and he had to tell her the truth, because she was his mother for God’s sake! He hadn’t expected how messy it would become, how he would cry too. But he had to tell her the truth. That was the only thought dominating as he went to speak to his mother.

He locked the door behind himself and began talking.

He talked about how he had liked many girls after Anna, about how he had always appreciated beauty, and then slowly broke it to her that he found men attractive.

She didn’t understand at first. She couldn’t link it in her mind.

But he said it to her straight; _Ma, I think I’m gay._

The first thing that came to her mind was, Oh god! She would never have grandchildren!

And the thought was too much to bear. She would never see innocent blue eyes again! No one would be born, whom they could name George Kirk, no continuation of the Kirk line, and all that. She burst out crying.

Jim was terrified. He hadn’t expected such a reaction. He had thought that his mother didn’t mind gay people, and said as much. She re-iterated that she was _fine_ with homosexuality, but she just didn’t want it for her son.

Jim had been sad, and a little angry that his mother wasn’t happy for him. Oh, he had to give it up. He’d been furious and distraught. He had vowed to never tell her anything so deep, ever again.

Only on her deathbed had she told him that she had always loved him, regardless of his choices in everything he did. He was her son, and he and his brother were her _life_. Nothing he did could have broken that love. It was this confession that made him able to survive her death; this and his lover, Spock.

 

** Plus One **

The one time when Jim truly had done nothing to make his mother cry, was when he did the whole save-the-galaxy thing, and became the youngest admiral ever. 

She’d been struggling with people who hated Jim her whole life. People who were jealous, and people who’d held grudges from the stupid things he’d done as a child. People who thought he was an alien-sympathizer, and people who thought he victimized innocent aliens. People left, right and centre. One of those people had been her neighbours.

He had been quiet the whole day when the news had come out. Winona Kirk was a proud woman, but she was not cruel, and she was not competitive. Though her heart swelled with joy for her son, she didn’t rub it in the man’s face, hoping that he too, would one day take the high road.

Fat chance.

She got the invitation to his ceremony, and accepted with great joy. She arrived, armed with an old fashioned camera, all the better to embarrass him with. These things she had to do before he got himself killed (god forbid) or she died of old age. These things she hadn’t been able to do in his childhood because she saw George and George alone when she looked at Jim.

She hadn’t gotten a chance to meet and congratulate her son before the main ceremony, but caught glimpses of him walking with the just-as-famous half-Vulcan Commander Spock. The man who had once tried to kill her son. But god forbid she hold a grudge against him for that; if she did she’d have to hold a grudge against the whole world, and other planets too. And besides, this guy was his friend.

She watched in silence as the crowd bustled around her, busy in preparations.

He hung around with Spock and greeted someone who could only have been Dr. McCoy with a warm hug. He had found his family, she thought. And they loved him back. She was happy for him. Yeah, it was sad that she hadn’t been there for him, that she hadn’t been an ideal mother, but she couldn’t begrudge him of this joy.

She watched as the two fell apart from the crowd, and stood close together, shoulders touching. Suddenly her son laughed and the whole world lit up, his laughter was golden. He tiptoed and whispered something in the stoic Vulcan’s ear, and she was stunned as Spock smiled back, almost shyly. She had never seen a Vulcan smile. Never thought it was possible, really. Some teaching they followed. But the devotion in that smile… and completely directed to towards Jim. They pressed fingers, and she guessed it was some secret code or something. She’d had a code with George…

She felt a pang in her heart as she realised what only mothers (good or bad) can see. Her son was in love, and she hadn’t known. George had told her the moment he met his wife, and he’d never stopped talking about her. Jim hadn’t mentioned a word to her, hadn’t even told her he was so obviously in love.

She felt left out, all of a sudden, and tears prickled her eyes. She knew she deserved this. Jim must have felt like this his _entire_ childhood, and she’d caused it. Now tears were leaking, unashamed. No matter how she tried she couldn’t ignore her cruelty to the child who had done nothing but love, who did not deserve it. She couldn’t salvage herself, couldn’t forgive. She didn’t deserve it.

She gasped, trying to hold a sob and failing as it escaped, shattered from her lips. She loved her son, she knew she did. But she hadn’t loved him enough. Yet he had turned out to be the amazing man he was. But he must have been deprived of what he deserved as a child…

Her mind went in circles as she retired to a small cubicle in the toilet, and almost missed the ceremony. She had to give him as much as she could, while she could. She did love him, after all. She did, she swore it.

* * *

Jim searched the crowd as the trumpets began to play, signaling the start of the ceremony. 

 _She wasn’t there_.

He had been hoping… but he hadn’t expected her there anyway. It didn’t matter that much, though it hurt a little. He felt a brush near his shoulder, and a familiar, pointy-eared presence settled beside him, physically and mentally. He grinned and leaned back, completely comfortable. Nevermind his mother. Nevermind any of that. He was here now, wasn’t he? And he was happy, happier than ever. That’s all that mattered. He held his hand out for a kiss, and received it, just before his name was called and he stepped into the sunlight to receive his award.

His mother watched from the shadow.


End file.
